


Golden Hour

by heibai



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Comedy, M/M, Mutual Pining, a photographer and his muse, makeout, put that makeout tag in here babey!!, this is very self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-24 15:43:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heibai/pseuds/heibai
Summary: Ten was in desperate need of a model for his last minute photoshoot assignment. So, naturally, he turned to a shady, craigslist-esque website for help. He wasn't hoping for much (because honestly, the website is a shithole), but reality still managed to sucker punch him with something... objectively worse.He should've known never to trust anything that uses comic sans as their main font.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten
Comments: 10
Kudos: 86





	1. I'm not a predator, I swear

**Author's Note:**

> Am I the only person who (kindda) (highkey) ships them???

Ten arrived at the cafe at four in the morning, as agreed upon with his anonymous job-taker in the built-in chat feature of an off-brand, somewhat _ more _ shady version of Craigslist (if that’s even possible) that his classmate recommended. _ ‘Desperate times calls for desperate measures,' _Lucas told him when Ten stared at the janky interface of the app with abject horror (and a little bit of disgust). Ten felt like he was dragged to the early 2000s when he saw those nearly unreadable green text on top of a light grey backdrop. 

_ ‘Trust me,’ _ Lucas continued, not even bothering to look away from his phone screen, tangled up by whatever hyperstimulating shoot em’ up mobile game he got himself addicted to that day, _ ‘at this point, you have no right to bitch. Just pray that you don’t accidentally contract a serial killer.’ _

Fifteen minutes have passed, and the cafe was still deserted save for him, the lone weirdo who picked the center table when there were plenty of empty corner seats and booths free for him to pick. He was tapping on the screen of his phone as he worried over the chat window that has gone silent for the last 20 minutes. Ten’s second, _ ‘where are you?’ _was still left unread. It was a pity that chatting, as a form of communication, wasn’t fit to convey the level of utter panic that Ten was feeling at that very moment.

Ten was one tap away from cracking his phone screen when the bell on top of the cafe’s entrance rang. He craned his head so quickly his neck joints cracked. In came _ a dude. _Old, hunched, pot bellied, looking not unlike Ten with his socks-sandals combo, and it was then that Ten was hit with a massive realisation, which was:

  1. He didn’t even know his model’s name. (Let alone how they look IRL.)

Ok, he has an explanation for that (not a good one, but whatever. It’s an explanation). 

The moment Ten got the chat notification and saw a glimpse of the word _ ‘interested’, _ he literally screamed to them (in chat form) the things they need to do (_‘JUST COME TO THE 24 HOURS CAFE IN FRONT OF THE STATION ENTRANCE AT 4 AM’ _ ) and what they need to bring (_‘WHITE OVERSIZED BLOUSE (if you don’t have them I’ll lend you one) OH AND REMEMBER, NO MAKEUP’), _before flopping face first onto his bed and dropped dead. 

He went from a hundred to zero in less than 5 seconds. Please, give him some slack.

Ten was literally expecting a _ nobody. _They could be the next person walking into the cafe, or even a ghost lurking in the corner (as in, a no-show) and Ten would be none the wiser. With a hopeless groan, he planted his face firmly on the rickety, faux-grunge coffee table in front of him and mulled over the extent of his stupidity.

He ignored it the next time the cafe bell chimed. _ Whatever, _he thought, opting to wallow in his self-loathing pity party and hoping that a nap would bring to him a much needed eureka moment. Which was why, it took him a little long while before he noticed that someone has just moved the chair right opposite his, the sound of rubber stopper squeaking against the tiled floor gratingly loud when put against the still, early morning air. 

What happened next, could be best described as the most severe form of whiplash that Ten has ever experienced in his short life. 

Physically, from how fast he raised his head in a state of sleep deprivation and caffeine overload, and mentally, when he noticed the truth of _ who _ he managed to hire to be his one time model.

He didn’t even wait until the multicoloured ants that swarmed his vision to die out before he berated the sharply dressed chap sitting in front of him. “_What _are you doing here.”

“Getting this bread,” Renjun said, calmly folding a paper napkin in half so he could place a small piece of cinnamon bun on the otherwise filthy table. 

“No,- I mean what are you doing here?! It’s four in the morning!” 

“That question can _ also _ be applied to you, but I didn’t bother you with it, huh?” Renjun paused to make way for a bite, and a long period of silence ensued. He only picked up on his sentence fragment when the roll was safely stored inside his stomach. “You see? It’s called privacy.”

Ten spent three seconds with his eyes squinted, thinking about the confusing rebuttal presented to him before he gave up with an exasperated sigh that made it sound as if he was drowning in his own saliva suppository. It was too early for him to engage in a morality exercise. “Look, I… just finish your breakfast,-”

“Can I have a sip of your coffee?”

“Yea, sure, whatever,- what I’m saying is, just finish your snack and move along. You’re going to scare away my appointment.”

“_I’m _ your appointment.” The way he placed the paper cup back on the wooden table produced a pronounced _ thunk, _ and it perfectly acted as an audible manifestation of the sound made when Ten’s proverbial brain stem proverbially snapped in half. “No, scratch that. From how desperate you sounded in your messages, _ you’re _my appointment.”

“You... you’re InjeolMee235?” 

Renjun took another big bite of his cinnamon roll. He seemed to savor it as much as he was savoring Ten’s confusion. “Honestly, I’m amazed it took you this long to put two and two together.”

“How even…?” 

“Look, you’re chasing after the dawn, aren’t you? Better get going before the sun rises too high.” 

Ten was itching to get more explanation out of his _ appointment _(who turned out to be far less mysterious than he originally thought), but the sound of tissue paper being roughly crushed under Renjun’s palm masked the start of another clarifying question. The moment he swallowed the last bite of his pastry, Renjun loudly stood from his chair (loud enough to garner an annoyed stare from the similarly sleep-deprived barista), and made his way towards the door. 

He was kind enough to hold the door for Ten, who took nearly five seconds to rise up from his confused stupor. The flip-flop of his sandals jingled through the deserted cafe and Ten felt exactly like how he must’ve looked. A fool. 

  
  


_ 

To clear things up if only for just a little bit, Renjun is Ten’s lifelong friend of some sort. Growing up sharing the same after school daycare (which then turned into a sandbox, then a playground, then a jungle gym, then a basketball court, then a _ literal _gym) would tend to bring that label on you, won’t it? 

Renjun is Ten’s lifelong friend and he’s also Ten’s go to model ever since he learned to use his dad’s clunky polaroid camera so old and water damaged it only ever produced faint, brownish silhouette of objects he captured.

He always said that he’s Ten’s muse. Ten always denied it. 

But in every denial there’s a truth, isn’t it?

And the truth behind why Ten refused to enlist Renjun’s help in completing his last minute assignment, the reason why Ten was willing to pay a stranger 20.000 won for something he could get for free, was…?

“You have no right to tell me _ where _ I should or should _ not _advertise my talent.” Renjun said as they were making their way to Ten’s humble apartment complex, an answer to Ten’s question about why he was lurking around such a shady, unmaintained website. It was quite a sound reasoning behind his action, but Renjun said it with such an air of defensiveness it caused Ten’s skin to prickle.

“But… but it makes you look like a…”

“Like a what?”

“Like a… you know…”

_ “Like a what?!” _

“Like a prostitute!”

Renjun was silent for a long second. He had an unreadable expression on his face when he spoke next.

“If I’m a prostitute, then you’re a predator.” 

Ten was worried. Every silence felt like a death grip around his neck, and every nervous laughter felt like a knife being pressed onto his carotid artery. He was sure that the next time Renjun spoke would be the one where he demanded an answer for the dreadful _ why. _

_ Why didn’t you ask for my help? You know I never asked for anything in return. _(Lies. He would always demand Ten to get him a scoop of Haagen Dazs’ vanilla ice cream after he finished modelling for whatever photoshoot idea that came to Ten’s chaotic subconscious.)

It was _ that _ certain fear that caused him to take a gander in shooting his blind shot before he gave his fellow marksman the chance to defeat him. 

“Are you stalking me?” 

“No,” Renjun said, in that blazé, couldn’t be bothered scoff. But it came a little bit too quick, with a little too much haste, that it didn’t help with Ten’s suspicion whatsoever. “No, I have a life of my own. Not everything revolves around you, dickhead.”

Oh man. He knew he should’ve cancelled the whole thing. He knew it. Close the gate. Call it a day. Tell Renjun the whole operation was a no go, a total mistake. 

Too late, though. Twenty minutes too late. As there they were, standing in front of his apartment room. Renjun waiting patiently with his arms folded while Ten was trying to delay the inevitable by fumbling with his _ fingerless _ gloves so he didn’t have to punch in the security code to a room that, in the next few hours, would be his very own, specially designed torture chamber. It didn’t matter how many times he pretended that he got the wrong set, though. Renjun knew the combination like the back of his own hand and Ten had no other choice but to punch the right one in, the moment Renjun whispered it to him with that little tinge of disbelief in his voice. As if he was indirectly saying, _ ‘where would you be without me.’ _

(Dead in a ditch, most probably.)

“Get in,” Ten commanded. Wishing that it would give him a brief moment where he could grief over his utter stupidity and bad luck. 

But even that was not granted to him. 

Ten has just pressed his forehead against his thin apartment door when he heard Renjun ask, “the _ fuck _are you doing.”

“Getting myself ready.”

“Well, do it quick. The sun’s rising,” he said with little to no care, tossing his knitted scarf on Ten’s messy study desk before throwing himself face first on the equally messy bed. 

He stared at Renjun’s unmoving body from his periphery and wondered, when did it all start? 

He was a friend, a good one. A great one. One that he knew for sure should never be put behind stupid, mindless thing that was a heard shaped, rose coloured glasses. But hearts, just like the stem of those cheap plastic glasses one can get at the dollar store, is so easily bendable. 

Renjun has been in his life for so long he couldn’t imagine living a life where he can’t ask to see him with a simple text message. And he knew that this _ feeling _(ew) he harbours would only cause this romance-averse teen to bail out of his world faster than the roadrunner could. 

He couldn’t imagine. What made his heart commit a figurative suicide as it leaped into the forbidden abyss anyway? Was it the smile? His laughter? The way Ten never feared for long term ramifications, no matter how silly he acted? No matter how radical his ideas were?

Oh, it doesn’t matter. It will never matter. 

Ten wouldn’t ever risk their friendship for something as selfish as his _ heart. _Besides, he’s still a child, isn’t he? A young adult too cool for his own good who doesn’t like dorky guys like Ten. He knew. He asked once, when they were drunk as celebration for Renjun’s acceptance to the university. 

“Don’t you think that we can be good together, kid?” (When he’s drunk, the derogatory pet names come out.) 

“Psh, _ never, _ grandpa. You’re way too basic.” _ Never, _he repeated under his breath before he put a cap to their conversation like how he screwed the lid to their shared bottle of soju. 

So no. Never. He drew a line that night. A harsh, messy line not unlike like the line he made with the tips of his toes on their playground’s sand box when as a kid he would be angry at Renjun for repeatedly destroying his sandcastles with his clumsy hands. A line he would never cross. 

_ Never. _

_ 

Ten lent Renjun his blouse because he just couldn’t get over the fact that the one Renjun wore was way too small and short for his current built. It was as if the thing was bought by his parents for his junior high graduation ceremony and was never worn anytime else.

“It smells like you,” Renjun said, pulling at the slightly yellowing collars and taking a deep whiff of the sharp scent of dusty detergent and cheap cologne. 

“Well, because it _ is _ mine.”

“Never saw you wear it.” 

“Just because I don’t wear it, doesn’t mean it’s not mine.” 

“Aw,” Renjun responded with a pout, “you’ll look good in this.” 

He followed Ten back to the ‘bedroom’ portion of his tiny apartment like a little baby duckling and leaned against Ten’s study desk, occupying himself with his phone as he waited for Ten to finish setting up his makeshift photoshoot location and being completely oblivious to the effects his words hold over Ten’s thinning sanity.

What Ten did for the next thirty seconds was less an attempt of setting up a shoot location and more a haphazard attempt at tidying up. With only one hand, as he stupidly was already holding his camera and didn’t think that he could put it down to make his life easier, Ten unceremoniously turned off all the lights in his apartment, dumped his musty old duvet under his bed, and draped over it a freshly washed (freshly washed? That’s questionable) off-white knitted lap blanket. 

One quick punt kick to his pillow later, and he only needed to pull back his curtain before he was ready to begin the shoot.

But doing so without preparing himself for what would happen next was a mistake. 

The newborn sunlight gently seeped into Ten’s stuffy, monochromatic room and there escaped a pathetic, nearly inaudible whine from his throat when he climbed down his bed and saw how Renjun looked in his blouse, which even for him was also already a tad bit oversized. 

He looked like he was drowning in a swaddle of near transparent fabric. Liquid silver. With cuffs that went past the tips of his fingers and dangled off his hands when he did a big stretch and fell backward onto the bed. 

He was like a forest nymph going back to the embrace of mother nature when he _ glowed,_ literally glowed, under a defined pillar of golden light.

“What should I do now?” Renjun asked, his syllables stretched out into a lazy drawl by his sleepy yawn.

"Take off your jeans."

"What,-“

“Take off your jeans.” Ten repeated his command, flavoured with something similar to panic poorly masked as insistence, because he just noticed how wrong the sentence sounded the moment he himself heard it being said. (Swear to god, it sounded better when he thought it up inside his brain).

“Why?!”

"I… need to make your legs... a bit longer. It’ll make your legs look a bit longer."

"But _ why? _ I don't see how those two correlate,-"

"Oh for the love of,- will you please just do it? I'm the _ fucking _photographer."

Renjun finally huffed his silence and did what he was told, only letting out a low grumble to show his annoyance when he struggled to shimmy himself out of his pair of tight fitting jeans. But of course, something as good as that (i.e., silence) could only last for so long. What Renjun said next felt like a direct punch on the gut that Ten had to excuse himself to get a glass of water to help recover from the shock it gave him. 

“Are we making a porno?” 

He continued speaking (which was the last thing Ten needed) to fill the air when Ten was still too busy recovering from his shock-induced coughing to reply. “I mean, I’m not judging you for it. But we really need to start talking about royalty splitting if you’re gonna sell these to our fellow perverts.” 

_ “No!” _ He said, when his coughs have ceased enough for him to no longer speak in unintelligible fragments, “it’s for my  ** _final assignment!_**_” _

“Then why am I half naked?!”

“Because! Because… because that’s the theme of my project!” 

“......... theme, huh. So, nearly naked twinks, _ huh._” Renjun stared at him dead center and delivered his sentence with such a flat affect Ten would’ve found it to be utterly hilarious if he wasn’t too busy trying not to die from a brain aneurysm. “Really. Is that _ really _ your theme? How many other boys have you _ shoot, _ O Mighty Photographer?”

“Stop it.” Ten said. He used his free hand to put an end to Renjun’s heckling, plopping it over his smiling lips, and had to suffer through the feeling of a giggle running up his palm. He knew it was dangerous. But it _ was _the fastest option. Besides, did he have any other?

Ten nudged his chin in a way to silently say that they were starting. It said a lot about the nature of their collaboration when Renjun moved to it with near automation, turning around so he was lying on his stomach and tilting his head so that the heavy sunlight caught onto the features of his face in a way that he knew would send a drove of serotonin into Ten’s creative brain. 

“There’s only you,” he found himself saying in between the muted clicks of his camera. 

The sound it created was nearly hypnotic. Pulling them deeper, and deeper, and deeper into a trance with each rhythmical snap. Add to that the morning breeze coming in from the partially open window, and the curtain, catching light like the surface of a river, gently swaying and sometimes, welcomingly interrupting his frame like a shy guest of honour, and you would’ve understood _ why_. But it wasn’t until Renjun let out a long sigh, before he rolled slightly so he was balancing himself on the side of his hips, that Ten regretted his decision on doing a study on natural light, and not taking any option that entailed the use of his janky ass softboxes. 

Their loud, intrusive crashes and high pitched whines would’ve been enough, would’ve been _ so much more than enough _ to distract him from being stuck in the last place he ever wanted to be stuck in.

“Only me?” Renjun asked, as he slowly angled his head so it could comfortably rest on his shoulder. Half his face was obscured by the shadow made from his wild mane of hair, while half his body glowed like daisy petals scattered on the grounds of a pristine lawn after a long night of high winds. Glistening, and seemingly slick under the touch. For the first time in their collaborative life, Ten failed to understand the personal reasoning behind Renjun’s choice of poses. 

_ Snap, _eyes closed. 

_ Snap, _ eyes open. 

And then a long pause. His finger hovered on top of the trigger but he had no courage to press on it because he knew what would come next time Renjun heard the hypnotic click of his camera. 

But he couldn’t freeze time, could he? And so Ten took a deep breath, braced himself, and allowed some sense of resignation to flow through him together with the sound that broke the pool of stagnant air between them.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you just ask me?” 

With the way Renjun stared through the lens, unblinking, he broke everything apart. Ten’s composure, his flimsy box of denials, and the idea of his ability to hide behind the apertures of his camera.

His tongue felt numb, but Ten managed to valiantly cough up a decent-sounding response, “I thought you’re busy.”

“You know I’m not.”

“I _ thought,-” _

“Well,” Renjun said, and paused. For emphasis. “I’m not.”

He was completely defeated. All he could do then was to just swallow his pride and be brave. “Oh shut it. You’re too tense.” So he said. The forced toughness behind his words seemed to pull Renjun out of his trance, and he stared at Ten, with his set of doe-eyed wonder, for a second too long that he had to clear his throat to bring everything, and everyone, back to the present. 

Renjun did a little stretch, rolling away from his stomach and snuggling his legs into Ten’s knitted blanket before he leaned back on his elbows, letting his head fall into a stream of deep yellow sunlight that flowed in from the windows. It dangled so dangerously close to the light pooling on the folds of the bed, that the tips of his hair were getting wet. 

“Better?”

The speckles of dust and rain water blooms that ended up on the other side of his windows created dots of phantom speckles on Renjun’s skin, flowing to the shape of his body like bubbles on liquid gold. Renjun’s smile was crooked, like he knew that Ten _ knew _ he was sitting on a secret, whatever that was. And his eyelids were half closed in what Ten could only describe as a smug confidence. It would be a lie to say that he couldn’t sense the heaviness cloying in the air, dreadful and ominous, that caused Ten’s throat to start itching. He needed to apologise, he knew that, though for _ what _he wasn’t sure. 

Two quick, frenzied snaps were all Ten could stomach before he flipped the knitted blanket away from Renjun’s legs. That was the furthest he could do to feed the starving monster waiting at the bottom of his stomach. Because more would risk him stepping over the _ line. _ And he knew it would be so easy. His fingers were only millimeters away from Renjun’s naked legs. _ Oh it would be so easy all right. _

A shudder ran across the entirety of his body, it seemed, from the way Renjun curled his toes and buried his face onto the inner corner of his elbow, already decorated by pinpricks of goosebumps, and from then on it was a game of waiting. For a yawn, for a stretch, for when Renjun would point his feet and let his arms dangle down so far from the edge of the bed that his fingertips touched the floor when he relaxed.

There was a snap.

And it was over. 

“Done,” he said. Ten quickly sprang to his feet and walked to his messy study desk, hoping that by _ finally _ having his back to Renjun and busying himself with miming an act of doing a quick edit of his photo reel, it could accelerate the return of his rationality.

It was just unfortunate that Renjun managed to gather _ his _faster than Ten ever could his decency and manners. 

“What do you mean _ done?” _As Renjun spoke, Ten could hear him stir on his bed, the springs creaking when Renjun picked himself up from his sprawling lounge, “that’s too quick! And I wasn’t even paying attention for that last one! Show me the last picture!”

_ ‘Lord, don’t let him come near me,’ _ Ten silently begged. His left hand gripped the edge of his table so hard they started to shake, just like how his right hand coiled around the base of his camera lense so hard it was running a risk of getting forcefully dislodged. But could anyone _ really _ fault him? They were the only thing Ten could do as he was struggling with an intense bout of _ going through it. _

Two by two equals four. Four by four equals sixteen. Sixteen by sixteen equals? _ Who the fuck knows, _because the next thing he knew, Renjun’s hand was on his arms and gone was the multiplication table from his wretched mind. Pried out of his incorporeal hands by the same person who was trying to pry his camera from their corporeal counterparts.

“Oh _ fuck_, I looked awful, didn’t I?” They were locked in a one sided game of tug of war. Renjun trying hard to take a peek at the preview screen, and Ten, only standing there like a petrified idiot with his mouth gaping, _ owowoing _ like a dying fish out of water. “Show it to me! I swear to god! Delete it! _ Delete it!"_

Because on his effort to take the camera away from Ten, Renjun seemed to forget one crucial detail: the one where Ten still had it the camera strap around his neck. So, the harder he tried...

The closer they got.

And the closer they got,

The less clarity there exist on Ten’s nearly dead brain. 

By the time Renjun managed to get the camera to face him and was scrolling through the reel with an expression of high concentration, Ten’s level of consciousness was the same as after he had a whole entire bottle of soju. Which was: too much. 

He could feel everything, smell, everything, _ see _ everything from where he stood, in a degree of _ vividity _ dozenfolds than if he was sober. The warmth of Renjun’s arm, his natural heat combined with the more pressing residual heat of the sun which was unevenly stored inside his skin from how long he spent basking under it. The top of his arm, radiantly warm, while the underside felt more cool to the touch. Renjun’s shampoo, mixed in with the scent of his more familiar dusty detergent and the faint whiff of sundrenched sweat, made him smell like he _ belonged _ there. Like he’s always been a constant fixture in Ten’s live, even more than he already was. (Like he could open his eyes, every morning, and found him _ there. _Always been, always is, and always will be.) 

And Ten saw the redness on Renjun’s nape, on his collarbone, the dusting across his nose and how it somehow brought forth the image of those shadow freckles into real life, what with them completely overlooking the need to apply some sunscreen when doing a photoshoot themed around exposing oneself to the sun for a long period of time. He too saw, Renjun’s entire body (sans his tacky, bright orange boxer briefs) that was barely concealed beneath his wispy, oversized, yellowing, moth-eaten blouse. Ten could take one peek and saw right through to Renjun’s wiggling toes. 

But know what he didn’t see?

The line.

“The line doesn’t exist,” he whispered. And it brought the unwanted attention of Renjun onto his face. His blushing, flustered, panicked face existing just mere centimeters away from Renjun’s calm (almost knowing) expression when a wave of sinful realisation came like a rolling wave on high tide to drown them all. 

“Excuse me?” 

“The line… _it doesn’t exist_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i'm sorry i have to split the story into two chapters because if not it's kindda a bit too long for the nonsensical plot that this story has)
> 
> Ever since I knew that Ten likes to work with Renjun as his photography model, I've had the idea for this story swimming around in my brain and... as I was (and still am, kindda) having the longest and dullest writer's block in my history of writer's block, something as silly and lighthearted as this was the perfect plot for me to use as a pick me up huehuehue.
> 
> Man I hope when Renjun joins WayV more people will... see the light ;;
> 
> hmu @ my twitter [@moon__soil](https://twitter.com/moon__soil) ~


	2. I'm not a prostitute, i swear

“The line doesn’t exist,” he whispered. And it brought the unwanted attention of Renjun onto his face. His blushing, flustered, panicked face existing just mere centimeters away from Renjun’s calm (almost knowing) expression when a wave of sinful realisation came like a rolling wave on high tide to drown them all. 

“Excuse me?” He asked, although Ten knew Renjun clearly heard what he said, and at the same time,  _ understood.  _ They’ve worked together for so long for him to not pick up on basically everything that’d spilled and fallen out of Ten’s chest, however nonsensical they are, from the messy pile that lay on the bottom of their naked feet. 

“The line… it doesn’t exist.”

Ten let out a surprised exclamation, when Renjun brought an end to the game they’ve unknowingly played for the last decade or so. A soft, involuntary  _ ‘oh!’  _ when he felt the rough strap around his neck digging into his skin, and not long after, how its momentum brought his nose to bump against Renjun’s. It was the beginning of something more  _ real _ . Way more real.  _ Too real,  _ even.

“You’ve finally caught on, good job.” They were so close,  _ so close,  _ that the pop of Renjun’s syllables would tickle the baby hairs on top of his upper lip. ”Well, will you do it?” Ten felt a shudder travel up his spine, and shamefully has to admit the implication behind having an unproportionate response to such a simple stimuli.

_ “Oh, come on,” _ Renjun grudgingly muttered when seconds passed and he still didn’t sense any indication that Ten was going to make a move. They were so close Ten could hear the silent movement of Renjun’s lips, and tasted the frustration behind them that was as palpable as the bitterness of his dry mouth. “Or do you think I’m still too…  _ busy?! _ ” When he spoke next, it was set in a volume too high for two people trapped in such a confined space that Ten nearly jumped away in shock. But the hand looped around his nape prevented him from doing so. Instead, the surprisingly cold and clammy palm pulled him in  _ even further _ , not stopping until their forehead bumped against each others’. One was cold, the other so hot it felt like they had a fever. Whose was whose? Ten might never know. “I’m never busy, not for you I’m never busy…” 

Ten just stood there, like an  ** _idiot_ ** when Renjun gave out one, last, tired sigh and pushed himself forward. Eliminating the distance between them in an act of mercy so kind Ten wouldn’t have mind falling to his knees to say his grace. 

It was such a simple kiss. Such innocent tenderness that it was surprising to see how badly it affected Ten. The kiss was his own Medusa head. Petrifying him on the spot. Turned him to stone. Face heating up and becoming numb from how fast blood rushed into his brain, leaving him dizzy and regretting because it caused him to lose his balance, buckled knees stumbling over his feet and the discarded pillow on the floor before they both tumbled onto the bed as graciously as two swans fighting with entangled necks. 

But instead of being some grand, magnificent gesture, it led to them both screaming out, with differing levels of pain, when in the heat of the moment Ten forgot about his camera and it fell smack dab onto Renjun’s ribs, before firmly lodging itself into the lower rungs of Ten’s lungs. It was as if it was saying  _ ‘don’t forget about me!’,  _ which they totally won’t, seeing how even after Ten had pushed the darned thing elsewhere, it was successful in leaving a mark in the form of reddening blooms on their skin that would surely turn neon yellow come next morning. 

In the midst of their confusing spikes of feelings, half of it pain and half of it pleasure (so much so that Ten caught himself thinking,  _ ‘god I hope this doesn’t awaken anything weird in me’ _ ), their limbs flailed in an effort to gain some purchase and support so that they both didn’t just tumble off Ten’s slippery bed and ended up in a heap of arms and legs on the floor. Renjun’s arms shot up, clipping past his ears, before they seemed to say  _ ‘hey, this is a great spot’,  _ and diving back as hooks around his neck. The accidental air that Renjun lent him caused Ten to not have to think that he was acting inappropriately, and to just focus on delivering the most important kiss in history. 

Ten initially picked the golden hour theme because he thought it was the easiest way he could get an impactful picture with the least time poured into the effort. He didn’t know the extent to how a monochromatic yet highly contrasted palette of white and gold could affect him until he felt those delicate, plump lips pressed against his in a way so soft he would’ve read it as being afraid if he didn’t know Renjun better. Until they allowed him to feel the true power of the golden morning sun as it beamed into his entire being, forgotten nooks and all. So warm it felt almost suffocating. Renjun’s fingers raked through his sweat drenched hair and it made him feel like he was one of the shadows of his window panes that for so long were imprinted onto Renjun’s body. Harsh, but at the same time soft and yielding to his demanding presence. 

They parted, finally,  _ regrettably,  _ after around five minutes of gratuitous lips sucking for a much needed intake of oxygen and there it was. Ten saw, underneath him,  _ his perfect specimen. _

Lying there with his hair fluffed up to the high heavens and eyelids half open with contention and lust battling within his glazed up eyes, Renjun looked nearly otherworldly. A demigod of pure sensuality of some sort. It said so much about him as a human being when the first thought that pops up in his brain was:  _ ‘I have to capture him on film.’ _

“Stay.  _ Stay right there,” _ the urgency of his word was unmistakable as Ten struggled to reach for his camera.

“This is porn,” Renjun mumbled in between humoured scoffs. He raised his arms so they shielded his eyes from the onslaught of sun ray, which, albeit have softened up into blurs of white gold, still packed a punch in terms of their ability to sting one’s eyeballs. Ten had to use his hand to get them out of the way, by pinning them on top of his head. He mumbled his apology when Renjun shot him a bitter squint. 

“Just for a second.”

“It’s  _ been  _ a second.”

Ten clicked the trigger to his camera just as Renjun opened his mouth to sound his protest. And to further prevent him from ruining the mood with one of his smart aleck episode, Ten decided to use a more hands on approach on directing Renjun’s pose this time around because A.) he did not wanting to lose the very last precious minutes of the golden hour and B.) because he just can’t help himself, okay? He ran his fingers up the rarely seen and even more rarely touched skin on the back of Renjun’s knees and guided him to move his right leg into an angle. Renjun only watched him with a little sigh, followed by a trail of amused giggle while he did so, looking at him with his head pillowed by the crook of his elbow. “Tell me if my balls are hanging loose, ok, I don’t want anyone else but you ogling at them.”

Ten guessed he managed to give a reply with an equal (and if not, somewhat competent) level of witticism, but he couldn’t really remember, honestly. Because he was dedicating himself on finishing up this impromptu shoot as quickly as he could. Powered by the ‘fear of deadline’ and ‘the stirring of a teenager’s loins’, Ten wrapped it up in just under 10 frames, discarding his camera with little to no regard (when usually he treated it like it was his own flesh and blood), letting it bounce onto the closed corner of the bed before he resumed their previous encounter with a bold hand placed at Renjun’s calf.

He was hoping that such an act would draw out of Renjun… something. Anything at all. It was sad that instead of something delicious, Ten just got out of him a series of choked up, surprised exclamations that were a mixture of laughter and screams, and a firm slap up his head. 

Renjun quickly yanked Ten’s hands away from his legs and jumped up, so quickly that Ten didn’t have the chance to move away. It resulted in a brand of thin red line on his hips from where Ten’s teeth collided with his skin. He used the small window of time when Ten was busy nursing the sharp pain on his sore gum to quickly shimmy himself back into his jeans.

“Yo we don’t have time for  _ that!”  _ Renjun said, in a tone that at first conveyed casual exasperation but in truth was just a transparent layer veiling the heart shaking panic coursing through his veins. How could Ten know, you might ask? His fingers. They were shaking so hard he couldn’t manage to button his jeans for nearly a full minute, “didn’t I tell you I’m gonna have another appointment at eleven?”

Instead of his usual path of uttering a lighthearted apology, Ten _really _wanted to point Renjun’s rare moment of losing his shit out and made a complete fun of him for it. Let him know that he would never live it down because hey! Look who’s nervous now! 

But a quick glance to his own hands that twitched like a dead frog on his lap reminded him that he was in no position of mocking others. So he quickly swiped a pillow from the floor and placed it securely on top of his crossed legs. When Renjun looked at him with a disgusted sneer, Ten only shrugged, “what? You started it.”

“Don’t even  _ think  _ of pulling that card on me,” he said, using the silent excuse of bundling up for his nearing journey out to the chilly autumn air to avoid giving Ten the merest of glances. Maybe he was afraid that Ten would tease out the truth from how watery his eyes were, or how unfocused they were, or maybe not even his eyes. Maybe Renjun was not willing to show how pink his cheeks have turned since the last time he felt those lips against the exposed skin of his lower back. No matter, Ten thought. The harder he tried to hide it, the more obvious they became. It brought out a smile so wide on his face even Renjun couldn’t pretend not to see it.

“What?!” He asked, the desperate clipping of his voice turning Ten’s smile into laughter.

“Nothing,” Ten answered with another shrug, “you have another modeling gig?” Ten asked as he reached out for his camera and began to scroll through his frames and deleting those he knew for sure were duds. His apartment is so small he didn’t have to raise his voice for it to reach Renjun who was jittering his way through trying to tie up his shoes by his front door. 

He heard a few taps of shoe soles hitting against his dusty welcome mat followed suit by Renjun’s voice, muffled by the swaddle of his scarf, “yeah. Seems like there are a lot of people like you who sat on their assignments until the very last second.”

_ ‘Well, this is interesting,’  _ Ten thought.  _ ‘So much for saying that I’m the last one.’  _

“Who is it? I might know them.” And he might also make fun of them on the group chat right after.

“Oh, I’m  _ sure  _ you know him,” Renjun said, together with the sound of his front door unlatching from the jamb.

“Who?”

“Lucas.”

Ten looked up from his camera, and it was the first time their eyes  _ really _ met since their abrupt separation. There was a grin on Renjun’s face. So wide it would’ve reached his ears if human anatomy allowed it to. 

“What do you mean by…” his sentence trailed to a stop, exchanged by a vague movement of his index fingers that motioned the act of a deranged smile. Inside his brain, Ten has begun to etch the first reason (out of five) on why kicking the shit out of Lucas’ smarmy grin the next time they meet might not be that much of a bad idea after all. 

“Oh, I don’t know, you were the one that said I look like a prostitute so I mean what are ashy knees for an extra twenty thousand w,-!” Renjun’s sentence sputtered out into shrill giggles when he saw Ten, finally deciding that he’d had enough with all the nonsensical flirtations, jumping out of his bed and barrelled towards Renjun who had his arms in front of him as a way to brace himself against the incoming attack.

They did little, though. 

Even if Renjun flinched, involuntarily turning his head to the side due to Ten not putting a damper to his momentum even if there were less than an arm’s length space between the two of them, all it took for Ten to restart their fiery affair was one hand cupping around Renjun’s cheek and an arm fiercely circling around his back so insistent he nearly hoisted Renjun off the floor. 

Ten could feel Renjun’s laughter with his whole entire body, nearly tasted it on the tip of his tongue, and he only answered by kissing him ever so deeper. An act which served as a more efficient way for Ten to say  _ enough.  _ Enough of the taunting, enough of the useless, insufferable flirting.  _ Shut up and don’t ever tease me ever again. _

_ Because if not... _

_ Then you will never have this ever again.  _

“Come back here once you’re done.” Ten said, gasping for breath as if he just finished running a 100 m sprint and nearly re-losing the hard earned cells of his brain when he saw an idiotic grin plastered on Renjun’s lips.

“Oooookie dokie.” Renjun answered, slowly, as his words were still ridden by a strong case of the giggles. Call him crazy, but Ten swore it was the happiest he ever saw Renjun be. 

Was it all because he finally took a stand for what he always wanted? 

Damn. If only he knew it was that easy.

“Do you  _ really _ think I didn’t contact you because I thought you’re busy?” The atmosphere between them was so calm, now. Mellow. So unlike the harsh, tension filled cradle that restricted them in its richness not even thirty minutes ago. Fitting, as the golden hour was long gone behind them, and the room has now gone back to its drab, greyish state of normalcy. 

“Are there any other reason for me to make a different conclusion?” Renjun said with a sigh. He looked up at Ten with his dastardly wide eyes. The same set like the ones he’s seen a million times before. The same that he hoped he’ll see a million times more. Ten couldn’t deny himself one last taste of that smile and take into him the last speckle of gold still existing in his otherwise silver-washed apartment.

“How about that?”

And there it was again, when Renjun’s eyes fluttered open after the quick peck on his lips and he allowed Ten to help him clasp the last button that popped during the heat of their passion and fix the collar of his shirt, a kindness he’s so rarely shown before.

_ “... much better.” _

(As he saw Renjun off, waving to him and him waving back in a way so juvenile and innocent it should be made illegal, until the last possible second before the elevator door closed in front of him, Ten had to finally swallow the big, bitter pill of realisation that  _ shit.  _

_ He really is my muse, isn’t he?)  _

  
  
  


_ _ _

  
  


(Two weeks later, Ten invited Renjun to come and see the final product on his faculty’s year end exhibition. 

It was a blast.

Ten nearly threw hands with Lucas when he saw his A0 print which depicted Renjun in a wet white t-shirt, out of all things, hair damp and slicked back and body half submerged in a pool’s turquoise water, smiling so candidly under a sparkling blue shower of faked raindrops.

Renjun laughed his ass off from how jealous Ten looked. 

Lucas too, laughed, even if it wasn’t his place to. 

And then they arrived at Ten’s photo which, he was comfortable to say, was mesmerising. Though maybe mesmerising was an understatement.  _ Magical  _ was more appropriate, as said by the stranger oohing and aahing right beside the quiet trio. A rich kaleidoscope of orange hue contrasted with harsh shadows that might fool onlookers to thinking that they were looking at a natural landscape if not for the little clip of Renjun’s button nose and gaping lips at the far corner of the picture. 

Renjun stared at it, at  _ his own body _ for nearly five minutes, trying to tell where it started and where it ended before he figured everything out (that’s the funnest part, to be honest, seeing light bulbs being turned in people’s minds when they realised  _ what it was  _ that they’ve been staring at) and said, “is that my butt?”

“That is your butt.”

“That’s a really nice butt.” Lucas butted in.

“Thank you,” Renjun beamed, and on his side, Ten muttered a really amicable yet venomous  _ shut up. _

“Please, ignore him. He’s a creature of jealousy,” he said, pulling him close to give Ten a discreet kiss on his cheek. But truly, it was done to hide an even more precarious thing, which Renjun whispered to his ears. “ _ Bro, this soft porn venture is promising. If anyone offers to buy this picture you have to give me 50% of the sale, ok?” _

And to that, Ten nodded and returned his peck with a full kiss on his still grinning lips. 

_ “Of course. Anything for the muse.” ) _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tenjun rise ;;
> 
> this might sound silly but i want to make this into a 'craigslist literary universe' because i have another story idea that has craigslist as its...... lets just say 'shenanigans starter' LOL
> 
> Until then...
> 
> hmu @ my twitter [@moon__soil](https://twitter.com/moon__soil) ~


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